Whore
Posted: December 27th, 2012, 3:28 pm
WHORE
for about seven years i had
my own private whore.
for a time she saw me on tuesday
afternoons. she'd bring chocolate
and i'd provide vodka and cigarettes.
we'd have a grand time.
i'd tied her in my bed, blindfold her,
gag her, whip her, and fuck her,
sometimes in the ass.
when the gag wasn't on she'd
laugh and laugh so much.
she was so completely free
and happy.
and so was i.
yeah, she was married.
and i'd often counsel her on how
to keep her husband happy, as
if she needed my help.
but she did, in this strange way.
and she'd help me. when a woman
i was seeing and was crazy about
left me and said she didn't like the
way i kissed, my tuesday girl
made it clear that she loved
my kisses and she loved the way
i fucked her.
yes, we were good for each other.
on rare occasion she'd speculate about
the possibility of our becoming a couple.
but we both knew it would never work.
obligation and fidelity were completely
out of the question.
no, it had to remain taboo and secretive.
it had to remain "bad" and without
any kind of commitment.
we had to make love on the run,
for the pure thrill of it.
did i mention that she was a poet,
this whore of mine? she even had
a few books of insipid, obscure verse.
i'd tell her these were her bullshit books.
i'd tell her the poems she wrote about
us, the unexpurgated, celebratory
poems about our sex, these were her
real poems. these were rare and beautiful
and free and, if ever published, would
serve to liberate others.
achilles
dec 27 12
for about seven years i had
my own private whore.
for a time she saw me on tuesday
afternoons. she'd bring chocolate
and i'd provide vodka and cigarettes.
we'd have a grand time.
i'd tied her in my bed, blindfold her,
gag her, whip her, and fuck her,
sometimes in the ass.
when the gag wasn't on she'd
laugh and laugh so much.
she was so completely free
and happy.
and so was i.
yeah, she was married.
and i'd often counsel her on how
to keep her husband happy, as
if she needed my help.
but she did, in this strange way.
and she'd help me. when a woman
i was seeing and was crazy about
left me and said she didn't like the
way i kissed, my tuesday girl
made it clear that she loved
my kisses and she loved the way
i fucked her.
yes, we were good for each other.
on rare occasion she'd speculate about
the possibility of our becoming a couple.
but we both knew it would never work.
obligation and fidelity were completely
out of the question.
no, it had to remain taboo and secretive.
it had to remain "bad" and without
any kind of commitment.
we had to make love on the run,
for the pure thrill of it.
did i mention that she was a poet,
this whore of mine? she even had
a few books of insipid, obscure verse.
i'd tell her these were her bullshit books.
i'd tell her the poems she wrote about
us, the unexpurgated, celebratory
poems about our sex, these were her
real poems. these were rare and beautiful
and free and, if ever published, would
serve to liberate others.
achilles
dec 27 12
